Page 89 of PET

And now I’m grinning like an idiot.

“Love you back, dude,” I whisper beneath my breath.

I stay in the bushes, completely out of sight, as my dad and his whore back out of the seven-car garage in his Bentley. He drives right past me without a single clue I’m even here—the dumb fuck. His entire empire is about to crash and burn around him, but he’s a sex-drunk idiot who isn’t paying attention. I’m going to enjoy taking his title from him. And once I’m in charge of the society, he’s the first one who’s going to rot.

When I know the coast is clear, I pull open the side window and jump in. The housekeeper would have caught me if I went through the front door. This way, when my dad looks at the security footage later on, he’ll see nothing but Michael Myers wearing all black coming through his window. He won’t know where to look.

“What are you hiding, you son of a bitch?” I ask nobody in particular as I move to his desk, yanking drawer after drawer open.

I’m not even sure what the fuck I’m looking for; I just figured whatever might be damning would pop out at me.

My new car whines as it drives by and I can’t help but smile, knowing Zeke’s driving her. My cars have always been special to me. Most guys don’t let other guys drive their vehicles—not unless said male is closer than blood. I guess it makes sense that I’d be okay with him driving it then, because Zeke is much, much closer than blood. He’s my past, present, and future.

Moving my attention to my father’s computer, I shake the mouse until the screen wakes up. It’s guarded by a passcode or his fingerprint, which I have neither of.Fuck.

“What’s your password, you bastard?”

I try typing in my birthday, but of course that’s not it. He hates my fucking guts. I try my mother’s, letting out a snort when that doesn’t work either. The new whore’s face comes into my thoughts, but I don’t know her birthday.

But I’m thinking about this all wrong. He’s a narcissistic, egomaniac. I try his birthday instead, not at all surprised when it works.Jesus Christ, Dad.

I quickly realize he doesn’t try to hide a thing behind an inconspicuous folder. Reports, graphs, bank statements—just about anything you can think of that’s personal is right here for the taking. And he just so happens to have an Apple cord sticking out of the side of the screen.

See what I mean? A complete moron.

The society should kill him just to save their own asses. Everyone has enemies, so I’d be naïve to think a multi-century society doesn’t have any, and my dad isn’t protecting any of their secrets. At least, it doesn’t seem like it.

I send several copies of the folders to my phone, hoping to bring all the info back to Dana to do whatever it is she and her guys are going to do with it. But before I can get all of it, a loud commotion breaks out in the hallway just outside the study.

“Excuse me! You can’t be in here!” the housekeeper shouts, her voice getting louder as she approaches the study.

Panic sets in and I yank my phone from the cord, hiding it in my back pocket when the large maple study doors fly open. Slamming against the back wall, I stand strong and find two huge meat heads staring in at me. They’re not my dad’s guys, nor are they the cops.

And when I squint my eyes to see better through the mask, I recognize them as Barrett’s men. What in the fuck are they doing here?

The housekeeper is still shouting at them to leave before she calls the cops until the taller one puts his hand flat on her face and shoves. She goes flying backwards, landing hard on her ass. Then they’re stalking toward me.

“Whoa, what the fuck?” I bark, moving away to keep the desk in between me and them. “You’re breaking and entering, assholes!”

I look toward the window, but I won’t make it before one of them gets at me, so I have to try a different tactic. They’re big motherfuckers, so I should be able to maneuver quickly around them to reach the door.

But when I try, the shorter one launches forward and tackles my ass to the plush carpet. We land with a groan, a pain shooting through my ribcage as I lose the air from my lungs. Fuck me, is he a linebacker?

“We told you we were coming for you,” he grumbles, and the blood drains from my face at the realization of his words.

Chapter 36

CHRISTIAN VERADIN

“Idon’thavetimefor this!” They ignore my screams as I thrash in the backseat of the SUV these buffoons are hauling me away in. And I can’t call for help because they found and confiscated my phone. “You’re making a huge mistake!”

Again, nothing.

My body flies forward as they drive over a bump and then slam on the brakes, my poor ribs taking another beating against the center console piece.Shit, man!

They’ve tied my arms behind my back as tight as they could. My goddamn fingers are ice cold and have long since lost the feeling in them.

“Let’s make a deal, guys. I’m about to take over the Reaper chapter—we all know it—and I can make you a very juicy deal. Whatever you want. It’s yours. An unlimited supply of steroids for your muscles? Done.”

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